Grieving
by Wind and Ashes
Summary: Butterflies in her chest were beating to get out, to break through her & be free even if it meant her demise. However she swallowed any chance of their escape, shoulders pushed back, crushing soft wings into submission; her composure ensued


She turned away from him then, giving a cold shoulder to an already cold room. Every gesture practiced, every movement pre-thought, though it wasn't real emotion that drove them. 

"So, this is the end?"

She chose her words carefully, clipping the ends like ribbon.

His reply: "The beginning of the end you could say."

And so it was said.

"It shouldn't have happened like this…not like this." She was almost pleading with herself as a drop of cold water echoed in a deadpan tone, not tears, just rain. Thousands of tiny drumbeats descended onto the windowpane, an answered prayer to cover the silence.

She tried again.

"Did you always know we'd end up like this?" not a whisper, but not really a question. She shouldn't be shocked, but she was; she'd seen it coming from a mile away, but you can only balancesomething for some time and then, then you eventually have to drop it.

Nevertheless, he'd turned toward her now, curious. Suspending his search for another suitcase, he joined her by the window, a respectful distance between them. "Like what, love? End up like what?"

"Like…" she choked slightly on her words, taking a deep breath and lifting her hand to nervously sweep a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes scanned the clouds as if looking for the right words that would be tucked between cotton fluff as grey as fog. "Like, those shiny happy people who wake up every morning and want to be there, everyday, with each other. Is it what they say to trick you or do some people disillusion themselves into it?"

The butterflies in her chest where beating to get out, just break through her and be free even if it meant her demise. However, she swallowed any chance of their escape, shoulders pushed slightly back, crushing soft wings into submission; her composure ensued.

"I think…some people were meant to be trapped by each other. Soul mates, past life regression, what ever you want to call it: sometimes it just works. For us…we should have quit while we were ahead." A bitter chuckle garnished this harsh reality. It hurt to realize this, denial is such a gripping state, but she knew it was the truth; he wouldn't have said it otherwise.

"Then, I suppose, I wish you luck."

He had already turned away but still countered her goodbye. "You don't believe in luck darling or chance, fate…love, remember? It's just not logical, is it? Or so you are fond of saying."

"It has no pattern, that doesn't mean I don't believe in it."

She could tell the conversation had ended, years ago if anything. They should have stopped this living narration, maybe then they could have at least stayed companions on some level, but there was nothing now. Their relationship was like an endless summer and then, too soon, it had ended. It hadn't sunk into her bones yet though, even when he first told her he was leaving; a statement, no room for discussion, no room to show a little emotion.

Afterward she would think to herself thoughts of destruction; thoughts of her soul sinking into the earth and being absorbed into a greater being, grounded, disappearing, the weight of one thousand pails filled to the brim with sand. However, once she had gone she would be able to breathe again, a freedom in body, but not in soul. That would be enough, she supposed, lying awake at 2:41 am and wondering about loosing herself into the Void, the Abyss.

"It would be enough." The words came across her lips, to clear to of been muttered.

"What's that?" He was still in the room.

"I said it would be enough. You leaving, it…would be enough." Her eyes felt hot, as if a pressure building behind them made needle pricks of pain surface. The clouds and windowpane blurred, though rapid blinking corrected this lapse of control she still could not focus on listless drifting cotton any more. Facing him now, taking in his lazy stance, his grace, his cool demeanor. Oh how she would miss him, he was never really around to begin with, but she would miss what could have been hers.

"Are you going to be alright?" His voice filled her ears but she had not seen his lips move, a delay in time had prevented her from linking his mouth to those words, but he had said them. Was he concerned? No, he probably didn't need her slitting her wrists just soon as he shut the door behind him. "I'll send Francesca to check in on you, she can take care of everything for now." The echoing click of the suitcase shutting seemed louder than possible, followed by him taking his grey hat (the same grey that matched his suit, his eyes, equivalent with the weather as of late) and tipped it just slightly downward, it made his appearance more charming.

Souls of shoes slapped against hard wood.

A rustle of expensive fabric.

A door opening, closing, fading noises.

And still, the rain fell.

* * *

A/N: I've been working on this piece for the last few nights and i'm afraid it's perfect now, so I must post it. Inspired by another one of my writings titled 'Stop The World I Want To Get Off', you can find it under my other account Glowing Embers (on ) 

Thank You for reading

Wind and Ashes

p.s. response to reviews: Les Otho - My writings, to me, are perfect in thier imperfections. forsome one who only has time to write at two or three in the morning weare all lucky u don git writins lik thes...lol

Thank youLady Pheonix Wings, yeah i know the tea cups comparison was crap, but i couldn't think of anything else(!) even though it was driving me crazy every time I read it. I changed 'teacups' to 'things'...yes, much easier.

This is a 'new' writing style for me, i'm not used to it. So sorry if it's to dramatic, but sometimes it's just what you've felt.


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